


Chasing Waterfalls

by minutiae



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, All Witchers Have Praise Kinks, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bed Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Eskel Has Self-Esteem Issues (The Witcher), Eskel has a bad time, First Kiss, Frottage, Lambert makes it better, M/M, Massage, More tags to be added, Pining, Protective Lambert (The Witcher), Sadskel, Tags Are Hard, because that's what I do, waterfall sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/pseuds/minutiae
Summary: Eskel gets some bad news, and goes hunting for the one person he knows will understand. The person he knows can help make it better.But Lambert is tired, and wanting.Here is where they find out they can have everything they dreamed of having, but thought they'd never get.I hope you like it, dear. Have a lovely Yule. <3Edit: NOW WITH ART HOLY SHIT
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 110
Collections: BIKM Secret Santa Event 2020





	Chasing Waterfalls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrighteyedJill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/gifts).



Eskel leaned back against the big pine tree, the soft rain falling around him. It had been another shit day, of a shit week. He fumbled a contract and someone unnecessarily died for his mistake. He threw another pinecone at the fire, listening to it crackle and hiss. He was so caught up in his own irritation and mood that the chatter was far too close before it startled him out of his woolgathering.  
  


Geralt and his bard were approaching, the soft crackle of Geralt’s horse passing through the brush and the incessant chatter of the bard should have alerted him long ago. There was no use worrying now, so Eskel just stayed relaxed, lounging on a pine bough bed he’d made himself. It made the night slightly better, but he still found himself mired in the listless drag of his frustrations.  
  
He raised a hand to the pair when they broke into his tiny space, and watched as Geralt set up their own camp beside Eskel’s fire. The bard continued his chatter, oblivious to Eskel’s disquiet. His hands moved as fast as his mouth, mildly overwhelming, poking at the stew Eskel had made but mostly ignored.  
  
Once Roach was seen to, Geralt sat down, the three of them surrounding Eskel’s small fire, sniffing at Eskel’s stew. One raised eyebrow made it clear what Geralt thought of his now slightly overcooked attempt at cooking. A lazy wave of his hand had Geralt digging through their bags, adding to and re-seasoning the pot, stretching and filling the meal to feed three. The pot was barely large enough, and Eskel nearly fumbled the hunk of bread that Geralt tossed at him to go along with it.  
  
Jaskier was very noisy. He filled the silence of the forest, and dragged Eskel out of the disquiet of his own mind, if only for a little while. The constant buzz of failure hummed a little quieter as the bard noisily regaled them with a story of Geralt in a terribly tailored outfit. Geralt looked incredibly constipated and annoyed at the story, and just as he growled at the bard to stop, Eskel’s attention caught up with what the bard had just said.  
  
“Excuse me, what?”

“Oh, yes. I _know._ It was the silliest thing!. I told him he needs to go back. I spent the winter in a nearby court so of _course_ I heard of her birth a few months ago. We’ve been arguing over this for ages now. But he refuses to go get the child.”  
  
Jaskier kept prattling, disparaging Geralt’s decision making to the point where he just buried his face in his hands while Eskel stared at him. Geralt said nothing, just appeared to shrink himself smaller when Eskel snapped.  
  
“Geralt. _How?”_  
  
Geralt couldn’t look him in the eye, intent on staring at his lap as Jaskier prattled on, still oblivious of the decades old argument blazing between the two old friends. Betrayal and anger raged in Eskel, the words lost to him. Geralt had spent all winter beside him, playing gwent and telling stories of contracts. Quiet hours repairing walls, armor, knitting new socks, reading books and drinking. Never once, even pressed together in a soft pile in front of the fire had he spoken. Both Lambert and Geralt curled up, pressed into him, his big hands cradling two heads close. The trust they gave him every winter, and yet he didn’t trust him enough to dare mention his child surprise.  
  
“ _Geralt.”_ _  
__  
_Eskel’s growl was deep and angry, a rockside of emotions crashing down and burying him in the haze of cobwebs that his thoughts had been mired in. Geralt flinched, and Jaskier finally noticed that his quiet companions were on the cusp of a fight.  
  
“Eskel? Oh, there’s a story here isn’t there, can you tell me about it? Geralt’s gotten himself in a number of foolish escapades in the last few years certainly. Whatever this is, though, _oh_ . You _must_ tell me, an argument fit to make the White Wolf cower in shame. Let me get my quill-”  
  
“Jaskier, shut up.”  
  
“Now look here, Geralt , that-”  
  
“ _Jaskier_ .”  
  
The stern word had the bard sulking, but Geralt still refused to look at Eskel. He fidgeted with his hands, head ducked in supplication.  
  
“The child deserves a loving family, Eskel. A prince is not suited to a life like ours.”  
  
“ _Destiny doesn’t give a shit about love or fairness, Geralt._ You know this as well as I. Destiny will just tear your face off and laugh.” .  
  
Jaskier had still managed to drag out his book and quill, scribbling away and he raises a hand, “Is that what happened to your face?” Both of them glared daggers at him, Geralt shushed him as he prattled on. “Now don’t shush me, that’d be a brilliant song, the tragic hero.” Jaskier’s tongue poked out slightly as he scribbled in his notebook.  
  
Eskel snarled, his face angry and cruel through the firelight, “My failures are written on my face to shame me, bard. Not to line your pockets from your pretty words.” He turns his back to them angrily, his back to the tree leaving the bard sputtering. Geralt manages to quiet him well enough, but he can hear the complaints and wheedling for information far longer than he’d want to. He let the bard rant and question and guess, each supposition more insulting and infuriating than the last. He knew the bard was doing it on purpose for Geralt to become exasperated and explain but all it did was pile the shame higher and heavier, crushing him down into the fuzziness of unfeeling.  
  
He let himself drift in it, until his skin itched and his head was woozy. The fire had burned out completely by the time he sat up. He tacked up Scorpion, leaving behind what he couldn’t take silently. He could get a new pot and tie line.  
  
The shame built higher in him as he glanced down, the bard laying across Geralt’s chest, snoring noisily. It would be best if he wasn’t here. The bard would soon know his shame. His utter failure to protect that which destiny gave him. For how the bard judged and condemned Geralt for his failures, he knew his own choices were worse. 

  
He rubbed a hand over his face, tracing the terrible scars. There were still many hours until dawn, Eskel sagged. He failed his child surprise. He failed the contract. He failed at being trustworthy enough for his brother to confide in. Scorpion followed the trail quietly as Eskel considered what to do.  
  
He couldn’t apologize to Geralt, as they had made it clear what they both thought of his failures. Vesemir had his own guilt and shame he would sometimes talk about, his worst days were spent apologizing to the three of them for the hand he held in running the school. For the harm caused by his hands. For his failure at defending the keep. Vesemir couldn’t hold Eskel’s shame, too.  
  
Eskel thought of the last few winters, long after Geralt and Jaskier had retreated to bed and Vesemir was asleep. The conversations held with Lambert in the depth of winter. They’d talked about anything, and everything, most nights ending up with Eskel carding his fingers through Lambert’s hair, his head cradled in his lap in front of a low fire.  
  
Eskel’s breath stuttered, unsure. He’d been honest, in the deep, quiet dark of winter. Staring into the fire made it easier to admit his faults and anxieties. Lambert had been there to see his shame. One deep, quiet night Lambert had knelt before him, heavy hands on his knees and told him that he was proud of him. Lambert would understand.  
  
A glance up at the sky told him that luckily, he’d been headed in about the right direction. The sun was high now, he’d been traveling for hours lost in thought. He turned slightly more south, heading towards Aedirn. He couldn’t have this discussion with Geralt with the bard there, and he wasn’t sure if he could withstand the sad judgement and disappointment in the eyes of the wolf. Their situations weren’t the same.  
  
He traveled single-mindedly, counting the hours passed by walking through the motions of caring for Scorpion. He watered the big beast, rested him. Walked beside him for long hours, daring to check a few towns on his way.  
  
It took him a week before he finally caught Lambert’s scent, farther east than he had thought for this time of year. He’d followed the cleared contracts, walking through towns on foot, his swords in a long bag hanging on Scorpion’s side. He couldn’t hide his eyes, his armor, or his shame, but he did his best to be less threatening in appearance. It worked well enough, letting him pass unbothered to tie Scorpion outside the small tavern. He could hear Lambert’s laugh inside, the drone of customers chatting and the clatter of dishes and mugs.  
  
He patted Scorpion on the neck, rubbing a hand on the patient horse’s face. He’d stable him wherever Lambert was staying, but he would be fine here for now. Now, he just needed to face Lambert. It took longer than he’d ever admit to let go of the horse and walk inside, his footsteps heavy and his head hung low. 

Lambert was lounging like a cat, spread over a chair like it was the softest chaise lounge. One foot had hooked around a nearby chair, giving him the appearance of utter relaxation and vulnerability. Eskel knew better. One quick tug would have the chair in his hands, a better option than a blade when disabling human attackers. They had been warned by instructors and older friends about the dangers of drunken brawls. Lambert always had been excellent at dissembling and deflecting. Sharp words and self deprecating humor encouraged anyone to underestimate him. Eskel knew better.  
  
Lambert glanced up at him lazily. He heard him coming, smelled his familiar scent, but when their eyes caught Eskel saw that smirk falter. His eyes narrowed slightly, before he leaned forward over the table, speaking lowly to his opponents. A flash of coins on the table, and Lambert picked up his cards and had them pocketed before Eskel was five steps in the tavern.  
  
Lambert smelled like ale, and walks with the loose sway that tells Eskel exactly how much he’s had to drink. Eskel was shepherded to a table in the back, Lambert’s hand tilting his chin up to look him in the eyes before he managed to croak out an apology for interrupting his game.  
  
“I don’t have a room here, but I have a place I’m staying. Did you stable Scorpion?”  
  
Eskel just shook his head.  
  
Lambert’s eyes traveled over his face, and Eskel closed his eyes and exhaled. He can’t risk seeing shame and disappointment in Lambert’s eyes too. Soft fingers traced his jaw and disappeared. He heard Lambert’s footsteps leave, and he waited to hear the door of the tavern but above the buzzing drone of the customers he can hear Lambert’s soft tenor talking to the barkeep. He can’t focus on the words, the cobwebs in his mind thick and heavy, the pull of his failures and sting of disappointment under his skin make his ears ring and eyes burn.  
  
Minutes, or hours, later Lambert slides into a chair next to him, pressing close. 

  
“Hey. Eat.”  
  
Eskel lets his eyes slip open, and drift to watch Lambert, whose back was to the crowd, no longer hiding his concern. Lambert picks up his hand from where it had been resting on his knee, a mockery of the meditation that sharpens and soothes his mind. His smaller hand gently curls his giant paw around the bowl, raising his eyebrows and pushing the bowl gently towards him.  
  
“We’ll get out of the noise here when you’re done eating.”  
  
Lambert watched until he took a bite, then he twisted in the chair, resting his back on Eskel’s side, effectively giving him privacy while the pressure was both a demand that he eat and a grounding touch. Eskel finished the bowl quickly, albeit mechanically, and Lambert shifted around to take it.  
  
He paused, half standing, first looking at the bowl, then up at Eskel again.  
  
“Another? I said we would leave, but if you’re still hungry-”  
  
Eskel shook his head. The food had been good enough, but he can’t quite remember having eaten over the last week. He had to have eaten something, and vaguely remembered jerky in his saddlebags. His stomach felt heavy, and his feet heavier. It was better to leave. The food had tasted like the ash he deserved to eat, anyway.  
  
He was pulled up gently, a hand slipped up the back of his gambeson. Hot fingers a brand on his lower back, gently guiding him through the crowd to the bar, where Lambert scatters coin again, for a heavyset woman to put a basket on the counter, grunting. Lambert checked through it, mumbling thanks, but Eskel took it before he could.  
  
He could carry things. He was good at that- it’s a familiar task, the two of them working together to repair walls of the keep. Eskel would cart heavy loads of stone over, scattered by the bombs and blasts from so many decades past. Lambert would often be the one to climb to the highest points, catching heavy stones that Eskel would toss up, one at a time. He often was the one to drag logs up from the forest, having always appreciated how the exhaustion of heavy labor made sleep deep and easy. Geralt was usually good to work with on days when quiet was desired, the ease of so many years made his friend’s reticence comforting. Geralt had a wicked sense of humor, clever and sharp, just as capable disseminating with his words as that ridiculous poppet of a bard that followed him around now. But he’d always preferred quiet company, even when they were children.  
  
Lambert filled the quiet. He could fill it with jokes and teasing, distracting and lighthearted. He could drone on passionately about the new mixture of mortar he’d come up with, and why this section of wall would stand longer than the rest of the keep. He could tear Geralt apart when they fought, thunderous tempers flaring, but both of them would gang up on him, destroying him utterly when the gwent cards came out.  
  
Eskel drifted in his thoughts about the warm hand on his back, allowing himself to be guided before the hand slid off his back, startling him into stopping. He turned to look for Lambert only to find himself in front of a small house. He could hear the rush of a small river, but nothing around him looked familiar. He felt a squeeze on his elbow, catching his attention again, Lambert pulling gently down on his elbow. He waited, watching, until Eskel nodded, his mind foggy and slow to understand Lambert wanted him to wait.  
  
It was easy to wait. He waited for decades, watching golden eyes from a distance. The stress of the Trials and anxiety of surviving the first few years on the path had distracted him from growth of the fiery kid he met, to the lanky, aggressive terror who challenged him to spar with a cocksure smile. Lambert had always burned bright, and Eskel had burned for him. A few years later he waited again as Lambert raged and burned against the loss they all suffered. He waited for those eyes to look at him, every winter, and the first time those eyes looked up at him from his lap he wondered if there might actually be a chance those eyes would actually see him.  
  
It was hours, seconds, days, before Lambert reappeared, golden eyes tense and worried. Eskel wanted to rub the crinkles away from the corner of his eyes but his hands were full. Lambert had slung Eskel’s saddlebags over one shoulder, the bag with his swords in his free hand. He was quiet, as they settled in the house, Lambert shucking off his armor before getting to work on Eskel’s. Eskel had already pulled his boots off, and was working on his gloves when Lambert batted his hands apart, plucking the gloves off with deft fingers, laying them on the table. Moments later his gambeson was unlaced and he was bullied out of it.  
  
“Come on big guy, wake up a little bit. You can rest soon. Get a fire going, alright?” Lambert tipped his chip up with a gentle hand, forcing Eskel to confront the kindness in his eyes. “Fire in the hearth. I’ll be right back.”  
  
Eskel shook himself out, one twisted, tired muscle at a time, and had only just stacked fresh logs on banked embers when Lambert dropped two full buckets of water in the cauldron. Lambert ran a hand over his back softly before he stepped away again.  
  
“Looks good. Keep going, this will take a few trips.”  
  
Lambert worked quietly, filling a large bathtub, before peering down at the full cauldron now starting to boil. The hot water was transferred into the tub and he refilled the cauldron again, with a sly look at Eskel, who sat placidly.  
  
“You hit that cauldron with igni didn’t you?” Eskel managed the softest crinkle of a smile, pleased at the amusement written in Lambert’s eyes. Lambert deserved a hot bath, especially considering he’d managed to find some form of contract that gave him use of a small, if abandoned, house for a while. It was far better than a room in a tavern that smelled of all the past occupants and noise that resonated through the night.  
  
He wasn’t paying attention to Lambert’s fussing with their bags until a pile of clothing hit the floor beside him, and Lambert was leveraging him up, his quick fingers unlacing his shirt. His confusion was clear as Lambert tugged his shirt off, over his head.  
  
“Bath’s for you, Eskel. Want help getting the rest off? Or can you do it yourself?”  
  
Eskel considered the benefits of Lambert’s smaller hands with long, distracting fingers removing his trousers and decided he didn’t trust his own body’s reactions. He still felt like he was moving through sludge, but the brightness that was Lambert’s considering gaze burned through the fog of his mind. He sank into the tub with a groan. He couldn’t even manage to flinch when Lambert dropped to his knees beside him.  
  
Lambert curled a hand around Eskel’s jaw, tilting his head to look at his face, scratching his short nails gently through the stubble. Eskel just closed his eyes and relaxed, letting himself be guided. The soft touch of sure fingers, the scent of the soap and oil. The press of Lambert’s fingers, the drag of the blade against his skin. He breathed slowly, calmly, the familiarity of the ritual calmed his mind. This had become a habit, over the last few winters, when Lambert had made a passing comment that he’d missed the winter Eskel had shaved his face for him. So the next morning, Eskel tapped on his door, a quiet knock even before the sun had lightened the sky. Lambert’s wide eyes watched him cautiously, but in the following weeks and years, they settled into a routine, trading the care. Only in winter, always in the deep dark of the morning, never when they met on the Path.  
  
The change in routine didn’t rouse him from his relaxation, however. He stayed lax as Lambert finished the shave with a gentle wash, soothing the sensitive scar tissue. He moved on to wash the rest of Eskel’s body with deliberate, telegraphed movements. Eskel watched curiously as long, strong fingers scrubbed his hands. He sat forward at the press of a hand, letting his back be scrubbed. He rested his arms on his knees, letting his head hang down.  
  
His mind still buzzed softly, but the pressure of Lambert’s hands helped, and a gentle hand gripped the back of his neck.  
  
“Washing your hair now, hold still.”  
  
Eskel nodded slightly, letting Lambert work. Bathing together wasn’t new, and it wouldn’t be the first time one of them needed help washing. Lambert had dislocated his collarbone decades ago after a particularly well aimed snowball knocked him off of the fort he’d built. Geralt had felt horribly about it, but even as Vesemir wrapped it tightly the old man had laughed at them.  
  


It had been one of the first winters that laughter made its way back into the newly broken walls of the keep. The scent of the pyres and their lost kin had not yet faded. However, he spent the next two weeks helping Lambert wash and dress. For all of his guilt, Geralt left Eskel to Lambert’s care and feeding. He’d never been as good with words as the youngest wolf, preferring to express his apology in taking over their chores wordlessly, stacking firewood obscenely high in Eskel’s bedroom until Lambert finally threw a boot at his head and told him to stop moping. 

Another bucket of warm water was emptied over his head, and Eskel wondered vaguely if Lambert would throw a boot at him tomorrow for moping.  
  
But Lambert just continued, moving on to his feet, dragging one leg up and out of the tub to scrub. It forced Eskel to shift back, and he ran one big hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Lambert caught his eyes, but Eskel couldn’t quite understand the expression, until he realized that Lambert had been telling him quietly about the contract that left him this house to use.  
  
A bruxa had taken over, but Eskel missed how. Lambert switched legs, tucking his clean one back in the warm water before gently hauling out his other. He talked about the fight- how tired he’d been. How he’d convinced the bruxa to move on- unwilling to kill her when her only crime had been finding an abandoned house a little too close to an active settlement. The only life that had been lost had been a foolish boy who thought he could win the house to impress his sweetheart. His sweetheart had been an angry young man, who paid well for the house to be cleared, demanding revenge for the loss of his lover.  
  
The bruxa had been grateful to discover Lambert had no desire to kill her, and had left with directions from Lambert to ruins farther south that would provide a safer nest. The town alderman welcomed him to spend a few days recuperating, and this was the second day of rest he’d had. Eskel watched as strong hands found a new scar, at the inside of his left knee. Lambert paused, and ran a thumb across it.  
  
“Nearly all washed, Eskel. Do you want to do the rest, or do you want me to continue?”  
  
It was easier to drift in the lull of Lambert’s soft voice and after so many decades they had no shyness left. Lambert hadn’t yet turned away in disgust, so Eskel let his legs fall open, and relaxed backward, letting his head hang back off the edge of the big tub.  
  
Lambert’s hands weren’t soft. They were smaller than his own, but with longer, delicate looking fingers that were just as clever and skilled as the rest of him. Sword calloused and strong, but somehow Eskel still was bowled over by the most intimate of touches by the one he had always dreamed of. Lonely winter nights and his imagination had nothing on how incredibly gentle Lambert was, shifting him up to clean him gently, the cloth smooth and soft. He started in the creases of his hips before shifting to clean through the thatch of hair, beginning at his belly button and following it down. The slick soap of the cloth made the gentle pass of Lambert’s hand electric, and it wasn’t until Lambert had his balls cradled in his hand, washing them gently but not lingering that Eskel realized he may have seriously miscalculated, as the brush of Lambert’s knuckles ran along the underside of his cock.  
  
It was gentle and soft, not lingering or teasing, but Eskel’s breath was shallow and his heart thundered. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped from behind his teeth as the soft cloth slid up his slowly thickening cock. He trembled slightly as Lambert slid his hand down, exposing the sensitive head. It was a gentle washing, but his nerves were alight as Lambert’s hand traveled down, slipping between his legs to carefully wash his ass next. Eskel wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve the gentle drag of Lambert’s hands in the most intimate of places but if all he could taste was this moment for the rest of his life he’d be sated.  
  
He didn’t move, even as Lambert’s hands drifted away, not wanting to be seen. He couldn’t bear to see Lambert’s eyes when the truth burned on his own face.  
  
But Lambert was never amenable to letting Eskel wallow. He was pulled up and out gently, dripping on the floor in front of the fire. Lambert knelt before him, guiding his feet into soft, loose trousers that he knew weren’t his own. The lack of small clothes left him bare and unable to hide his body’s reaction to Lambert’s gentle hands.  
  
So many winters Eskel had teased Lambert about being the littlest wolf, the youngest wolf, passionate and fiery. But Lambert wasn’t a small man. He was narrower than Eskel, certainly, and his habit of slouching and crossing his arms always disguised the fact that they were the same height. But he wasn’t slouching, now. He stood tall before Eskel, and hooked a shirt over Eskel’s head, nudging him into slipping his arms through. His gentleness ended there, as he flopped the towel onto Eskel’s head, vigorously rubbing Eskel’s hair until he pushed the attack off with a soft laugh, his hair wrecked and tousled.  
  
Eskel finally looked Lambert in the face again, damp, half hard, his hair a mess and surrendered to the moment. Lambert’s eyes were soft and bright, free of the judgement or disdain his angry mind screamed would come soon. Would it? Eskel realized suddenly that even the day Lambert had stitched his face back up, both of them crying and covered in his blood that he had only looked upon him with kindness.  
  
Lambert took him by the elbow, guiding him deeper into the house. “Come on, Eskel. Let me take care of you.”  
  
Eskel was grateful again, for the house, the safety of the walls and the privacy of the forest. He allowed himself to be guided into a messy bedroom that smelled of Lambert. He found himself pressed into the bed, covered with blankets.  
  
“Rest a moment. Going to go empty that tub quickly, and bring some food so we don’t need to get back up. How long were you going before you found me?”  
  
“A week, I think.” His voice was gravel, and he coughed, his voice rough with disuse. Gentle fingers brushed through his hair, and when he closed his eyes a kiss was pressed to his forehead.  
  
“I’ve got you now. Rest. I’ll join you in a moment.”  
  
Eskel listened to Lambert emptying the tub outside, the noise of his movements and the door he knew were for his benefit. So he could track Lambert’s steps, and know he hadn’t left. He was fast, and when he returned he’d changed too, now shirtless and in another pair of loose pants. He had brought with him the big basket of food, water skins and towels tossed on top.  
  
Lambert slid under the blankets, one hand reaching out gently, and Eskel rolled to meet him. He was clumsy and lax, easily maneuvered until Lambert’s face was pressed into the crook of his neck. The steady thrum of Lambert’s heart was soothing, and Lambert ran a hand through Eskel’s hair, murmuring softly as he dozed.  
  
“I’ve got you now, Eskel. The house is safe, there’s food and water and Scorpion is stabled around back with plenty of room to roam. The pasture is far overgrown, so he’ll be just fine. Relax. There’s no one you need to worry about. Everyone is safe.”  
  
Lambert pressed a kiss to the top of his head and Eskel pulled him closer, grateful to press his face against bare skin. He pressed his nose into the soft hair on Lambert’s chest, the scent of home had settled his mind, the gentle scratches of Lambert’s fingers combing through his hair settling the buzz of his thoughts. Lambert kept up his gentle murmur until Eskel drifted off to sleep.  
  
He awoke in the dark, slipping softly out of the bed to attend to his bladder. When he returned, the soft glow of Lambert’s eyes tracked him back into the bed. He stripped off the shirt, leaving it in a puddle on the floor. The heat of the blankets and Lambert’s warm body pressed against his own had been a little more than he could manage. He shivered at the darkening of Lambert’s eyes, willing himself not to wish for more.  
  
“Get in bed, Eskel. Still tired?” Lambert pulled him in, sliding his hand up Eskel’s arm, long fingers still too small to wrap all the way around his biceps. He’s always been big, bigger than all the other boys his age, and plenty of them older than him. His size had always been a strange gift- few threatened him, and yet even fewer were willing to be gentle with him, especially after his face was so distorted. Lambert had never changed. His hands had always been gentle, his words always sharp.  
  
“I can see you thinking. Stop. Lie down. You’re tense.” Lambert slipped out of the bed, padding over to rummage in the basket. Eskel still hadn’t moved, watching him, when Lambert bullied him onto the bed gently, climbing up to straddle his hips. Eskel went to scrabble forward, turning to look at Lambert. He smirked and just settled his weight heavy across Eskel’s hips. The heat of Lambert’s legs through the loose pants made Eskel’s head spin slightly at the near contact.  
  
“Calm, Eskel. We’ve done this before, remember? Just going to rub your back, see if I can work some of that tension out. You’ve fought well, but you don’t need to fight right now.”  
  
Lambert’s hands were slick with oil as he pressed firmly down on Eskel’s back. He shifted his weight forward, sliding his hands up Eskel’s spine. The pressure made Eskel’s spine pop quietly as gentle hands slid up his back. He relaxed into the mattress completely with a small moan, content to let Lambert’s hands roam. He worked first one shoulder, then the other, firm hands pressing and soothing, until both hands gently ran up the slopes of his shoulders to circle his neck, thumbs pressing gently and firmly into the knots of bone, working the tension out all the way up to the base of his skull. It wasn’t until Lambert slid back before drawing himself up on his knees to better work Eskel’s lower back that Eskel realized Lambert’s heart beat faster than his own right now. He could have sworn he felt the ghost of hardness when Lambert moved, but buried his face in the bed. He was getting his hopes up again.  
  
It didn’t take long for Lambert’s strong hands to melt him into a puddle on the bed, and he shivered at the loss of Lambert’s body heat. A gentle hand traced up one thigh, before hooking on the waistband of the loose pants.  
  
“Lift up if you want more.” Lambert’s voice was hoarse, and Eskel wondered vaguely if he was tired, but Lambert wouldn’t offer if he wasn’t sure. He was viciously protective of his sleep, and never had a problem chasing off anyone who dared to knock on his room door. But Eskel did want more, so he shifted, lifting his hips slightly, and Lambert drew the trousers down gently, running a gentle hand down one leg. Eskel shivered at the drag of hard won calluses down his thigh, and the bed shifted as Lambert slipped down. Eskel heard the sound of wood being tossed in the small fire, and a gentle hand caught his foot when Lambert returned.  
  
“Let’s get you all the way on the bed, big guy. I suspect you’re not gonna want to move when we’re done. You didn't last time.”  
  
The _last time._ The last time was years ago, Geralt had managed to climb up on the same rubble outcropping that the rooster had been seen on the previous day on a stupid dare from Lambert. Vesemir didn’t even have time to call them morons before the small stone ledge snapped, and Eskel dove forward to catch Geralt. He’d succeeded, but in twisting to avoid getting hit by the stone he’d wrenched his back. Geralt had felt terrible, but it was Lambert who had put him back together. He’d forced him into a bed, threatening to smother him and with sharp, strong hands, shifted his ribs back into place. The massage he gave after that was far more gentle than this had been, but Eskel had been deeply embarrassed by the low moan he’d been unable to contain when Lambert, astride his back and one hand pressing firmly between his shoulder blades, had run his right hand softly, slowly, up Eskel’s side. He’d berated himself, Lambert was just checking his ribs were all in place and there was Eskel reading too much into the gentleness. 

Lambert’s gentle hands pressed and shifted him around on the bed. Eskel was still loose and pliant, face pressed into the bedding again to hide the sigh that came from Lambert’s hands sliding firm and sure up one thigh. He worked the muscles, murmuring softly to Eskel quiet praise, the sheer size and strength he held, the quiet way he surrendered, his patience and kindness. He worked his way all the way down one leg, even the bones in his foot popping quietly under Lambert’s attention before he shifted on the bed slightly. Eskel turned his face to follow but he could only just see the soft reflection of Lambert’s eyes over his shoulder. Oil slick palms ran up his leg and he shuddered, one trailing up his hip to press gently, shushing him. Time was molasses, Eskel trying to watch without lifting his head, unable to catch Lambert’s eyes until he started on his foot, firm thumbs pressing down gently, working through it as he held Eskel’s gaze. He pressed a kiss to Eskel’s ankle, dropping his leg slowly to the bed before slinking up the bed, laying down beside him.  
  
“You’re a puddle, I probably couldn’t drag you out of this bed with Scorpion pulling you. Ready to roll over?”  
  
He did his best to sink further into the bed, burying his face before Lambert snorted. He shoved his hip gently, laughing at him softly. “Ah, I won’t make you look at my ugly mug. That’s fine.”  
  
Eskel rolled the words around in his mind as Lambert fussed, draping the blankets over him before he laid farther up on the bed, his hands behind his head as he sprawled out, resting against the headboard, legs spread. When Eskel risked a glance up, Lambert was watching him quietly. He dragged himself up the bed, momentarily regretting the loss of the blankets. He pressed his face into Lambert’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling him close. The heat of Lambert’s body was more than enough to make up for the loss of blankets, but he was still grateful when he stretched over top of his prone form to adjust the blanket. A firm tug brought them up high enough to just cover his ass, tucked in gently around him before a gentle hand was smoothed in a small circle on Eskel’s warm back.  
  
“Sleep. You’re still woozy.”

Eskel awoke the next morning to Lambert attempting to extricate himself. He sleepily dragged him back down, pressing a nose to Lambert’s neck before realizing what he was doing and releasing him. Eskel expected to be laughed at, the gentle teasing Lambert gave him every winter when they woke up unexpectedly curled around each other in front of a long dead fire. But Lambert just paused, looking thoughtful.  
  
“Still not ready to talk about what had you so low?”  
  
Eskel stayed quiet, and Lambert got up and dressed back in those loose pants that slung so low over his hips. He sorted through the basket, shoving the towels he had gotten the night before inside. Eskel could see a bottle of wine and bread, but turned away to roll out of the bed. Lambert dumped the rest of the wrapped food on a small table in the room before he dragged a still sleepy Eskel outside.  
  
They sat in the overlong grass, watching Scorpion graze as they ate, trading the bottle of wine back and forth. Eskel did his best not to imagine he could still taste Lambert’s mouth on the bottle.  
  
“I don’t know how you found me, and kept that big beast of a horse under you as low as you were, Eskel. What hit you so hard?”  
  
Of course Lambert wouldn’t leave it be. He frowned, the last week a blur. “I just… needed to talk to someone who would understand.”  
  
“I’m here, Eskel. Always have been. You’re the one always running away.”  
  
The last of the wine was held out to him with a nudge, and Eskel finished it, settling the bottle down against a knot of grass before getting up to lean on the fence of the small paddock. He could feel eyes on him, but stayed quiet for a long time before Lambert finally sighed.  
  
“Alright. Come see this.”  
  
Lambert walked off, the basket in hand, not looking back to see if Eskel followed. He does, of course he does. Eskel could do nothing less. He would follow Lambert anywhere. They skirted the paddock, and the crash of the river slowly grew louder before Eskel realised the sound was a waterfall. The house they were in was nestled in a small curve of foothills that stretched up and into the Mahakam mountains. It was a beautiful setting, Eskel thought it was made even more beautiful by the dappled light across the bronze tone of Lambert’s skin. He ambled through the grass, still barefoot and shirtless.  
  
Eskel watched the sway of Lambert’s hips, the play of sunlight across his golden skin. The curve of his waist was mesmerizing, as Eskel watched him prowl through the long grass. The basket balanced on a broad shoulder, and only highlighted the strength in his arms, the flex of muscles down his back. The crash of water only got louder until they broke into a clearing.  
  
There was a small, but clearly deep lake stretched out before them, and Lambert climbed down to a small beach where he left the basket. He didn’t even hesitate, dropping his loose linen trousers. They caught his eye as they slithered down his thick, strong thighs, a puddle on the ground he walked away from. Eskel may have only been a few steps behind him, but he felt leagues away as Lambert dove into the water, splashing back up and scrubbing his hands through his wet hair.  
  
The sparkle of sunshine from the drops of water caught in his hair, across the fur of his chest and sparkling down his arms burned the last of the fog away from his brain and Eskel did his best not to shiver.  
  
“Are you coming in, or just going to stare at me from there?”  
  
Eskel attempted an answer, but only managed a garbled assent and a nod. When he still didn’t move, Lambert laughed, twisting back and swimming deeper into the lake. Eskel stripped clumsily before he splashed into the water, following the retreating form before him.  
  


The water was surprisingly deep fairly quickly, and it took effort to swim against the current of the waterfall that cascaded down the sheer rock face before him. Lambert was a strong swimmer, cutting through the water with an ease that spoke to his enjoyment of the water, and he pulled himself up onto a ledge near the falls. Eskel spat the water that went up his nose at the sight of Lambert pulling himself up out of the water, slipping up on a ledge tucked up next to the fall itself. He just watched Eskel tread water before beckoning him over with a smirk. 

The ledge itself wasn’t large, Lambert had already shifted back, making room for him. Of course, he put Eskel on his left. He couldn’t hide his scars from Lambert. He never let him even try. With a sigh, he hefted himself up, forced to press close to avoid the cascade of water. Lambert leaned into him slightly, the press of his skin smooth and slick, his wet hair tickled his shoulder. The water was above his waist here, and cold, but he could feel the heat of Lambert’s leg pressed against his own.   
  
“You don’t have to coddle me, Lambert.”  
  
“What if I want to?”  
  
Eskel stayed quiet, and Lambert sat up, brow furrowed. A sharp finger prodded into his side, making him startle and stare at the fire in Lambert’s eyes.  
  
“What if I _want to?_ You’re constantly fucking _giving_ , generous with everyone but yourself. Why won’t you take what you want?”  
  
“I can’t _have_ who I want, Lambert. Fuck, why are you doing this?”  
  
“Who _do_ you want, Eskel.”  
  
Eskel scowled. No one ever wanted him that way. He’d ruined his chances with stupid decisions, and he’ll never have what Geralt found with that noisy, pain in the ass bard.  
  
“So the bard pissed you off.”  
  
Eskel startled- he hadn’t realized he’d been grumbling aloud, and sat back against the rock face with a huff. If Lambert didn’t mind the possibility of leeches, now was as good a time as any to talk about it. So he closed his eyes, letting the water splash on his face, and started talking. He told him about the contract he blundered, not securing every exit to the half collapsed manor house. The blood of one more innocent on his hands. The meeting with Geralt the next night, and the news that rocked him. He heard Lambert hiss, and glanced over to see wide eyes, Lambert worrying a lip between his teeth.  
  
“That’s fucked, Eskel. Not your fault, though.” Lambert considered, looking at his hands before speaking quietly. “And you don’t want what Geralt has, anyway. Bard’s fuckin pushy and obnoxious.”  
  
His words held the tinge of bitterness, the way his shoulders curled. He shifted his weight away from Eskel, his eyes skittering away, and Eskel wasn’t sure what he was looking at. There was an edge to this moment he couldn’t place, and didn’t know if it was the leftover fog in his mind. The moment felt familiar, though, and he was suddenly _very_ aware they were both naked.  
  
“Would it be so bad if I did want someone obnoxious?”  
  
He didn’t know why he had dared. This wasn’t something he could have, something he deserved. But it was something he _wanted_ , and the way Lambert tensed, before standing up, turning his back to Eskel, he suddenly realized that maybe he had things very, very wrong.  
  
“Well, bards are fuckin sluts anyway, apparently. Maybe if you go back-”  
  
Eskel reached out, his hand shaking. He scowled at it, he was a witcher and well over 100 years old there’s no fucking _reason_ for his hand to shake, for his heart to race but it _did._ And he interrupted the scathing spit of Lambert’s words with a touch, fingers grazing his thigh. Lambert flinched away, before he turned to glare.  
  
There wasn’t much room on the ledge, but being eye level with Lambert’s dick was not a good way to start this conversation. When Lambert refused to turn around, drawing his arms tighter around his chest and curling up impossibly small for a man who actually was the same height as him.  
  
“Lambert.”  
  
He was ignored, of course, but Lambert hadn’t swum away yet, so Eskel just waited him out, trailing a hand in the water that was only up to his thighs. It did nothing for modesty, but they’d seen enough of each other over the decades that nudity wasn’t the issue. Lambert’s sudden shut down _was_ .  
  
“Lambert. You’re the only one who has never looked away from my face. You’re the one who stitched it. You’ve never hesitated to be honest before, and right now you’ve turned your back on me.”  
  
Lambert turned deliberately, golden eyes bright and wet. Eskel would almost, almost have called it anger except for the challenge he saw there. He uncurled slowly, shoulders rolling back as Lambert shifted from a defensive posture. Eskel narrowed his eyes as he watched Lambert consider him. His eyes were brilliant, the light reflecting off the water made the calculating gaze nearly hypnotic. He shifted close, tilting his chin down to look up at Eskel from beneath those long, dark eyelashes. His eyes had always been unfairly gorgeous, and Eskel couldn’t find the ability or a reason to break the gaze.  
  
Lambert shifted again, and Eskel wasn’t certain how suddenly Lambert was only a breath away, and his skin prickled at the proximity of a predator. Eskel licked his lips, watching the slow smirk tilt across Lambert’s face, one sharp tooth visible. 

  
Eskel couldn’t help the sharp inhale at the implied threat. Eskel may be barely able to overpower him, but Lambert had him in speed. Those teeth could be on his throat before he could move, if Lambert wanted to tear his throat out. But the heady scent of _want_ washed over him and his eyes blew wide. Lambert shifted, minutely closer, his smirk slowly becoming a feral smile, and the flare of his nose led to a crinkle of his eyes. Eskel flushed, knowing his scent betrayed him and again, Lambert shifted closer minutely.  
  
“You don’t _want_ honesty right now, Eskel. You can’t handle it.”  
  
Eskel breathed in, suddenly certain he’d misunderstood something _very important_ for a very long time now. He inspected the challenging look before him, Lambert looking up at him through too long eyelashes, the tilt of his grin one that he’d seen over and over through the years. He moved slowly, both accepting Lambert’s challenge and presenting one of his own. Lambert was faster, with incredible intelligence and wit, but patience was rarely something he indulged in.  
  
If Eskel was right, he’d _been_ patient. For far too long. He slid his fingers along Lambert’s jawline, nails scratching through his beard. He turned his thumb and traced it along Lambert’s chin and he watched Lambert’s eyes search his face, watching his eyes narrow. As Eskel’s thumb dipped under the edge of Lambert’s jaw, watched Lambert’s pupils expand, nearly eclipsing the gold in his eyes. There was a sharp, soft inhale as Lambert swayed, pressing harder into Eskel’s hand.  
  
Eskel gripped his jaw firmly, guiding his back straight, tilting his head up as his free hand pressed Lambert back gently, firmly. Guiding. Eskel may have him nearly by the throat but he had no illusions that the one in control here was Lambert. It was only two steps on their tiny ledge for Lambert to have his back against the wall, and Eskel caught the movement of Lambert pressing his palms against the slick, cold surface.  
  
This was the most undone Eskel had ever seen him. He tipped Lambert’s head gently to the side before speaking.  
  
“You push, Lambert. You push me in every way. You challenge me and goad me and I have no idea how someone as horrifyingly clever as you could be so oblivious. Are you finally coming to me because you think I turned away? It’s been you. It’s always been you. Gods, I have no idea how long I’ve loved you. I just never thought you’d want me-”  
  
Lambert lunged forward, knocking Eskel’s hand off of his jaw in the same movement he reeled him in for a kiss, both hands buried in Eskel’s hair. It was a clumsy, desperate kiss, half a gasp and plead, and Eskel could only follow his own moan forward to lose himself in Lambert’s mouth. He was lost in the feel of soft, plush lips on his own and the trace of a tongue seeking entry. Eskel tipped himself into the world that was the man he watched from all together too far.  
  
It didn’t take long for the newness, the exploration of a mouth he’d dreamed about to become overwhelming. When the heat of Lambert’s cock brushed against his own, Eskel gasped, his hands grasping Lambert’s hips tight enough to bruise, and ground into him. He was helpless, dropping his head to Lambert’s neck and sinking his teeth firmly into the curve of his throat. Lambert moaned, deep and wrecked, arching into the pressure.  
  
Smaller, more delicate fingers were shaking as Lambert trembled in his grasp, and Eskel continued to mouth at Lambert’s neck as he released his grip on his hips, soothing with a gentle rub. Eskel marveled at how small Lambert’s narrower frame looked below his large hands. He wasn’t a small man, or any less strong than Eskel himself. But they were built so differently. Eskel’s big broad hands spanned the width of Lambert’s narrow waist. He slid his hands gently up his ribcage at the same time he licked a line up Lambert’s neck, pushing his chin up with his nose.  
  
The trembling hadn’t lessened, but Lambert’s fingers tightened in Eskel’s hair when his knees buckled again when Eskel ran his thumbs over the pebbled nipples before him. He wanted very much to get his mouth on them but he kept his nose pressed into Lambert’s neck, too focused on the scent of his enjoyment and the too-rapid tattoo of his heart.  
  
“Please- Eskel- t- _talk to me._ ”  
  
Eskel hummed. “Talk, to you. Like in the wintertime, when we’re curled up in front of the fire. And you’re so quiet and calm. Tell you how _good_ you were, all year long.”  
  
Lambert bit off a whimper, but that was enough.  
  
Eskel pulled at Lambert’s elbows, gently removing the hands that were buried in his hair. He pressed them gently above Lambert’s head, taking both wrists in one hand. He leaned back a moment to admire the view- Lambert, flushed and panting, cock hard and weeping. He had his head tipped back against the wall, eyes dark and heavy lidded.  
  
It was purely instinct, that his free hand dropped to stroke himself at the wanton sight before him, but as he took himself in hand Lambert let out at broken low moan, staring at him.  
  
“Look what you do to me, beautiful. You’re wrecked and wanting for me, and I don’t understand how I am so lucky but _oh_.” Eskel shifted close, still stroking himself slowly, watching Lambert’s eyes track the motion. “I would do anything to earn this, again and again.”  
  
Eskel pressed himself even closer, shifting to take them both in his big hand. He kissed away the gasp that dripped from Lambert’s lips, a sweet garbled wreck of his name, as he stroked them both slowly,  
  
“I never thought I’d get the honor of seeing you as spread out and wanting, Lambert. You’re a vision, beautiful. I have the most cunning, clever man I’ve ever met in hand and the name he deigns to say is _mine._ Say it again, Lambert.” He twisted his fist gently, rolling a thumb over the sensitive head of Lambert’s cock.  
  
“ _Es-Eskel_ …” Lambert wobbled unsteadily, and Eskel paused, letting go to run a gentle hand up his side, soothing him with a shush. When he went to release Lambert’s hands he cried out, snatching him back, and they ended up with their fingers intertwined, still pressed high above them both.  
  
“Shh, beautiful. You’re doing so well. Tell me what you want.”  
  
“ _You.”_ _  
_ _  
_“You have me, I’m here. I didn’t think I’d get to have this, not with you. Let me take care of you. Tell me, what do you want?”  
  
 _“Please,_ Eskel. Press.” Lambert was out of breath and if that didn’t make him even harder and more desperate but he couldn’t- he wouldn’t assume. Not after so many years of getting it wrong. “Press me against this wall and show me you _mean it.”_ _  
_ _  
_Eskel growled softly, crowding Lambert against the wall, pressing him back into it.  
  
“I’m not fucking you here, with no slick and possible leeches, Lambert. Put your arms around my neck, now.”  
  
Eskel guided an arm down around his neck, before lifting Lambert up by the thighs and pressing him back into the wall, making them both gasp and hiss at the friction of their bodies pressed so tightly together. Eskel shifted his grip for one good handful of Lambert’s delightfully round ass before rolling his hips against the smaller wolf, making them both groan and the friction. Lambert caught his hands in Eskel’s hair, pressing their foreheads together, their shared breaths hot and desperate as Eskel ground himself into Lambert, who moaned at the overwhelming amount of friction.  
  
“Fuck, Eskel you’re incredible. I can’t- fuck don’t _stop.”_ _  
_ _  
_Eskel’s movement stuttered at the gasped praise, before he shifted, rolling his hips up against Lambert smoothly, pressing them tightly together.  
  
“Lambert, no, don’t- let me _hear you,_ you never shut up any other time don’t you dare stop now.”  
  
“Fuck you, Fuck, Eskel _faster..._ gods _please”_

  
“Your fucking voice you gremlin you say it like that and I’ll never be able to hear you say my name again without getting hard.”  
  
Lambert scrambled, a choked out moan ripped from his throat as Eskel shifted, pushing him up the rock face slightly with a powerful thrust.  
  
 _“Good._ Come on me. Claim me, Eskel.”  
  
He’d been doing his best to hold back, desperately wanting to feel Lambert come apart in his hands but at the growl of his name he shuddered and moaned, and the hot spill between them had them both shaking and unsteady.  
  
When they’d finally steadied themselves back on their feet, Lambert couldn’t help but giggle at Eskel trying to help scrub their come out of his chest hair. He batted his big, fretful hands away before spreading his arms and splashing backwards into the water.  
  
“Come on, there’s soap in the basket, and towels.”  
  
Eskel dove in, and they swam to the small beach, where there were soap, and towels, as promised. Lambert tried to wave Eskel off, but was persuaded with kisses and soft, exploring fingers to let Eskel bathe him. 

Much to Lambert’s annoyance, Eskel did focus on clearing the come from his thick fur, and then proceeded to teasingly inspect him for leeches. There were, of course, no leeches except a giant scarred one who delighted in leaving marks on Lambert that would fade far too quickly. But Lambert was prepared, as he’d brought the soap _and_ the slick with him when they reentered the water to wash and proceeded to begin to finger himself open when Eskel was distracted by licking up the shell of his ear.  
  
The moan and movement caught his attention, and Eskel slid his hand down Lambert’s arm, following until he pressed a finger against Lambert’s rim.  
  
“Impatient.”  
  
He just growled when Eskel swirled his finger around the tight furl before grasping Lambert’s smaller hand in his own.  
  
“Maybe this is a good idea, then. Get you used to your fingers, before you try to take mine. Put those beautiful, clever hands to work.” Eskel fucked Lambert with his own finger relentlessly. “More slick, then another finger.”  
  
A pause, while Lambert’s hands shook and he fumbled the little pot of slick, which Eskel caught with a snort. “I told you the water wasn’t the best place for this but you were impatient.” He waited, watching Lambert’s face, his fingers following Lambert’s movements. The moment two fingers were carefully seated, Eskel grasped his hand and fucked him slowly, dragging his own big fingers along the inside of Lambert’s thighs as he went. Lambert’s free hand gripped the slick, his arm hooked around Eskel’s neck.  
  
He shifted, twisting his hand making Lambert arch and gasp. He pressed one finger slowly, gently between Lambert’s own, watching his face as he shook and gasped. He moved slowly, pressing and shifting, reveling in every noise that dripped from Lambert’s lips. When he finally pressed his own thick finger all the way in between Lambert’s long, narrow ones and pressed their hands deep inside Lambert gasped out a broken moan as his knees buckled. Eskel caught him effortlessly, abandoning his task in favor of pressing the trembling man to his chest.  
  
“Shh. I’ve got you.”  
  
Lambert’s eyes were a little wide and wild, and he allowed his arms to be guided around Eskel’s neck. Eskel slid his hands down Lambert’s ribs, soothing and quieting him before sliding both big hands down over his hips, lifting and guiding Lambert’s legs around his waist. He kept a firm grip on the thick thighs around his waist, and splashed back towards shore. The friction and pressure of their rock hard cocks made him hiss, the sensations only heightened every time he glanced back at Lambert’s wide eyed expression. He set him down near the soft linen trousers, kneeling at Lambert’s feet momentarily to guide them back on.  
  
He couldn’t resist a firm stroke over the linen covered cock, one hand cupping the back of Lambert’s neck. He arched and pressed into the contact with a soft broken moan, hands scrabbling to grasp at Eskel’s chest.  
  
Lambert looked bereft when Eskel stepped back, but Lambert dropped to his knees, sudden and harsh, snatching Eskel’s twisted up linen pants before he reached them. He reached out, a soft, shaking hand and Eskel stepped close, watching the lines on Lambert’s face soften and disappear as he guided Eskel into his trousers. He stopped, swaying forward, breath hot and eyes wide, begging with his eyes. Eskel wasn’t sure whether he was asking permission or a favor, but cupped his chin with one big hand, pulling him gently back.  
  
“Not now, Lambert. I want you on that big bed you found.” 

  
Lambert’s eyes dropped shut and he swayed backwards minutely, and Eskel helped tie his trousers after tucking his rock hard and desperately wanting cock in.  
  
Perhaps it was silly to dress to walk the 10 minutes back to the house. There was no one to see them but the birds and the trees, even Scorpion and found a shady spot to doze in on the far end of the pasture.  
  
But they did, Lambert’s hand locked around Eskel’s wrist, tugging him back through the long grass, over the stream that ran through the pasture, through the trees and finally, finally back to the house. The basket was dumped half haphazardly on the floor of the room, the small pot of slick helpfully left on top where Eskel smoothly snatched and tossed it on the bed.  
  
Lambert, however, could not hold still. His eyes were wild again, fingers twisting and unsure.  
  
“What’s got you so skittish?”  
  
“I want…”  
  
“You’ve made it pretty clear up until now what you’ve wanted, Lambert. Why are you being shy now?”  
  
“You-”  
  
“If you fuckin say I’ll laugh at you I’ll lay you flat right now and you know it. Fine. _Show_ me what you want. _Now_ .”  
  
Lambert dropped to his knees with a thud, a sound that reverberated through them both.  
  
“Oh. Oh, Lambert, you beautiful, overthinking bastard.” Eskel shifted closer, watching Lambert’s eyes widen in desperation as he approached, one hand out to sooth as he would a startled animal. “Be calm for me, close your eyes.”  
  
Lambert’s eyes were wet with tears when he dropped his eyes closed slowly, the golden gaze disappearing slowly under long, dark eyelashes.  
  
“I- I never dared hope you wanted more-” Eskel ran his hands through Lambert’s dark hair, combing it back away from his face. “Is this all you want? I can-”  
  
“No.” Lambert gasped, eyes flying open, shoving his face into Eskel’s crotch, burying his face deep in the crook of his groin. “Want you.”  
  
“You’ll have whatever you want, Lambert but that’s not quite enough to go on. You want more of this?” Eskel wrapped his hand in Lambert’s hair, a firm fist gently forcing Lambert to tip his head back. Lambert nodded.  
  
“You want to fuck.”  
  
He was met with another nod.  
  
“Do you want- “  
  
“Fuck Eskel, why won’t you just love me?”  
  
Lambert bit out, tears shining in his eyes. Eskel released his grip on his hair as if it were a hot brand.  
  
“Lambert, oh, _I already do_ , no. Stand up, now, come here.” Eskel bullied him into standing, wrapping his arms around the man he’d spent decades wishing to touch in exactly this way and realizing they had both come from two entirely opposite sides. He rocked him slowly, until the tears stopped.  
  
He cradled the face before him, wide, wet eyes shocked and open.  
  
“You do?”  
  
“I always _have_ , Lambert. I’ve wanted you for _decades._ The first time you knelt at my feet I thought if it was all I got from you, winters of your trust, it would be enough. ”  
  
“It’s _not.”_ Lambert’s voice was small.  
  
Eskel cupped his face in his enormous hands, finally, finally a reason for destiny to give him a body this big, hands this large: to wrap around the man in front of him. Once Lambert stopped shuddering, he nosed gently at Eskel’s face, pressing soft kisses to the deep scars that cleaved his jawline. Eskel continued his slow, soft rubbing of Lambert’s back until he was steady and sure again, the erection that had flagged in his momentary panic tenting the soft trousers he wore as he nosed and licked softly at Eskel’s jaw.  
  
It was short work to remove both of their soft linen trousers, and once they were both bare Eskel guided him back towards the bed.  
  
“You want to kneel, and I love to see you do that. All your power and grace and beauty just waiting for me. But I think we best leave that to another night. I have an idea of how you can still be on your knees for me.”  
  
Lambert raised his eyebrows, watching Eskel clamber onto the bed, yanking him close as soon as his back hit the mattress. Eskel grinned at Lambert’s scowl, where he’d been pulled unceremoniously halfway onto the bed, flopped across Eskel’s chest, but was manhandled into sitting on Eskel’s hips. The first slide of his hot, wet cock against Lambert’s ass made them both moan.  
  
Eskel fumbled for the little pot of slick while Lambert rolled his hips languidly, the curve of his spine dragging his length of his cock slowly, tantalizingly through the fur on his pelvis. The teasing stuttered only when Eskel smoothly slid one thick finger deep inside, forcing Lambert to tip forward onto his hands and knees, head bowed and hair hanging down in Eskel’s eyes. He twisted his finger carefully, seeking and then pressing, making Lambert flinch and cry out, his arms shaking and cock twitching between them.  
  
“Oh, you’re doing so well, stay on your knees there. Come on. Every time you want another finger give me a kiss.”  
  
Lambert lunged, pressing his mouth desperately to Eskel’s, a messy mash of a gasp and a kiss met by Eskel’s laughter. He slid a second finger slowly, slowly in beside the first, grinning when Lambert cursed and bucked into his hand, legs trembling. Eskel smoothed a hand up and down Lambert’s leg before sliding up his hip to grip the globe of his ass, squeezing it. Lambert moaned, shakily pressing his open mouth on Eskel’s, panting heavily.  
  
He was hard and wanting, and they both groaned when all three fingers made a slick squelch, pressing in eagerly and Lambert dropped to his elbows, cradling Eskel’s head in his arms. He begged, softly into Eskel’s mouth, nipping at his lip and pressing kisses desperately until Eskel huffed and nudged him upwards again with his hips.  
  
“It’ll sting, only three fingers, Lambert.”  
  
“ _Please, Eskel.”_ _  
__  
_Eskel slid his fingers free, stroking the excess slick over his cock, hissing at the feel of his own calluses over the sensitive head. Soothing one hand up Lambert’s trembling leg, he guided Lambert down onto him. Lambert’s eyes were closed, and he pressed his forehead to Eskel’s, panting and nosing at Eskel’s face in turn as he worked his way slowly, slowly, down. They both groaned softly when he’d finally taken it all.  
  
Eskel gripped his thighs, lifting him up slowly, catching Lambert’s gasp with his own mouth. He kissed him softly, a gentle press of lips until Lambert opened his eyes. They were shining and bright, and widened when Eskel rolled his hips up.  
  
Lambert shifted, and drew his knees up closer to Eskel’s side before he took over. The tilt of the smirk on his face was entracing, especially when coupled with that deep, flexible arch of his back that rolled his hips. They both gasped at the friction as Lambert repeated the motion slowly, unable to stop a moan. Eskel kneaded into the flexing muscles before one hand slipped between them to take them both in hand. The intrusion of Eskel’s large hand between them made Lambert choke out a gasp, shifting slightly to accommodate.  
 _  
__“Eskel-”_  
  
“Don’t stop, Lambert, Let me see you. You’re incredible. Every inch of you.”  
  
Lambert lifted one shaky hand to nudge Eskel’s face gently. Clumsy, open mouthed kisses and gasps, and the slick slap of skin were the only sounds in the room until Eskel shifted his hips up, using his grip on Lambert’s hip to press him down, and the drag of his heavy cock across that sweet spot inside Lambert had him shudder. 

  
Eskel released their cocks, running his now slick hand up through Lambert’s chest hair before gripping his throat carefully and pressing him upwards. He did not squeeze, just held him there and the angle was enough that Lambert’s own movements stuttered.  
  
“Come for me, Lambert. _Now._ ”

  
Lambert cried out softly, a full body shudder as he rocked through his peak, the clench and flutter of his muscles drawing Eskel perilously close to his own as Lambert shivered and gasped.  
  
“Fuck, Eskel, claim me _now.”_ _  
__  
_He didn’t need to be told twice. Eskel gripped Lambert’s hips with both hands, driving into him mercilessly, pounding the noises out of him before he came with a growl, filling Lambert, who could only moan and beg before collapsing onto the broad chest below him.  
  
Eskel just held him, still stunned and overwhelmed, but when Lambert nuzzled close he shifted, slowly sliding out of his lover. He pressed a kiss to Lambert’s nose, who as always, ungratefully swatted it away as Eskel climbed out of the bed. It only took a moment for him to relight the fire in the fireplace and find what he was looking for in the basket. He picked up their two damp towels from their swim in the lake, scrubbing the slick and spend off himself with one as Lambert watched, bemused. He left that towel to hang on a chair before he grabbed a bottle of wine and a small bag of dried fruit.  
  
“I won’t be able to walk for a week, you fucking beast.”  
  
“Cry about it, Lambert.”  
  
Eskel climbed back onto the bed, pressing Lambert back down onto the bed as he gently wiped him clean. He doted on the body below him as Lambert flushed, hiding his face. The towel was cold, and pebbled his skin as he swept away the traces of their joining, but Eskel smoothed a warm hand down his thighs, pressing a kiss to each area he deemed clean and warm. He nosed gently at Lambert’s balls until he peered out from under his arm, brow furrowed. Eskel couldn’t help his grin as he took Lambert’s softening prick deep in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue, the salty tang of their mixed spend making him hum.  
  
“Fuck, Eskel, _hngggg.”_ Lambert shoved him off with laugh and a shiver, and Eskel kissed his way up the furry chest before him, flicking one peaked nipple with his tongue before tossing the towel carefully towards the chair. When it slid back down to the floor with a flop, Eskel frowned, but Lambert caught him before he could leave.  
  
“Just. Stay.” He waved the wine bottle, amusement flicking in his eyes. Eskel settled back in, manhandling a grumbling Lambert to be curled up beside him. Lambert poured out the fruit on Eskel’s chest, picking through and eating his favorites first until they were gone and Eskel nudged him with the wine bottle until he took a drink.  
  
“You won’t be rid of me now, you know.”  
  
“Well fuck. They say I make stupid ass decisions.” Eskel snorted.  
  
“It’s always been you, Lambert. We’ll have to talk more about it later, but. You need to know. It’s always been you, as long as I can remember.”   
  
Lambert went quiet and still, before curling into Eskel pressing his face into his chest, sliding one hand below the blankets to gently cup his soft prick in one hand. His voice was soft, and quiet. “Yeah. I didn’t think I’d get to have this either.” Eskel just pressed a kiss to the top of his head as they dozed off, sated and calm, comforted by the touch of each other. 

Art by the ever stunning and wonderful [Ana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilisidi/pseuds/ilisidi) <3  
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